Market Research
by initial aitch
Summary: Wonka and Charlie go trickortreating to conduct a bit of candy research.


"Market Research" (10-16-05)  
Wonka/Charlie  
rated G  
gen  
Written with the 2005 CatCF film characters in mind, but still it's just general Charlie and Wonka.

* * *

"Aarrrrrr," said the scrawny young pirate. "Trick or treat!"

"Avast ye there, matey," responded the man who answered the door, playing along. "Spare my life, please! Just take the candy." He grabbed a handful from his bowl and dropped it into the bag the boy held out.

"Thank you!" the boy said, turning to leave.

"You're welcome," the man called, smiling.

Charlie flipped up his eye patch in order to safely step off of the porch. Reaching the pavement and stealthily glancing behind him, he ducked into the adjoining alleyway.

Instantly, he was grabbed by the shoulders and backed against a fence--but this came as no surprise to Charlie. He'd been dragged off of every other street he'd visited tonight and he expected Mr. Wonka would be waiting impatiently.

"Give-give-give," Wonka insisted, making a grabbing gesture.

Charlie wearily handed over the bag. Wonka snatched it up and plunged a hand inside. Bringing out an assortment of cellophane-wrapped sweets, he cast them a disparaging glare. "Who gave you these?" he demanded.

"Um," said Charlie, squinting to check his mental notes. "Number 17, I think."

"Ugh," snorted Wonka, letting the candies fall through his fingers. Again he rummaged in the bag. "What about this?" he asked, withdrawing a pack of chewing gum.

"Mrs. Starr," Charlie answered. "Oh, but please cut her a break, Willy. She was my third-grade teacher."

"But I see she's not even buying our gum," retorted Mr. Wonka. "Way to support the success of your student, Mrs. Starr."

Charlie _tsk_'ed. "Willy, there are other ways to do this, you know. Send out questionnaires, polls."

"Nonsense," exclaimed Mr. Wonka. "Statistics lie. Halloween doesn't. This is the best kind of market research." More rejected candies littered the alley as he scattered them without regard. "Aha!" His tone changed. "Here we are!" He took out two Gobstoppers and a handful of miniature Wonka bars.

"Number 23," Charlie sighed, anticipating Wonka's question. "The Lewises."

"Excellent," the man grinned, making a tick in his notebook. "That makes two dozen hits for the mini Fudgemallow bars--the biggest hit of the season! You know, though," he said, wrinkling his brow and pursing his lips against his pen, "we did much better on Factory Drive, even if they did have a greater number of non-edible 'treats.'" He scribbled another note.

Charlie had had enough "market research" for the night and still slumped against the fence, flexing his tired feet. "With respect, Mr. Wonka, but you have an unfair advantage here. This is your home turf."

"Exactly," Wonka said, throwing Slugworth's peanut butter pumpkin as far down the street as he could. "I'd just like to know if my hometown is loyal to me. It might affect my Christmas card list this year."

Charlie tried to catch Wonka's eye. He could almost never tell whether the man was kidding.

"OK," Wonka said, patting Charlie on the shoulder and then steering him into the next street. "Go to it!"

Charlie entered Pond Street with a stumble in response to Wonka's shove. He clomped up the first set of steps he encountered, pulled down his eye patch and straightened his plumed hat. He threw one last imploring look at Wonka, who crouched behind a nearby bush waving Charlie on. Charlie glanced heavenward in a brief plea for a bit of Wonka's endless energy. Drawing his sword, he rang the bell.

"Arrr," he growled, less than enthusiastically. "Trick or treat."

The woman at the door smiled broadly at her visitor. "Why, Charlie Bucket! Happy Halloween! How nice to see you. Isn't it nice to see Charlie, Norman?" She turned to address her husband who sat heavily in his armchair reading a newspaper. "Charlie Bucket, heir and partner to Willy Wonka and their great chocolate factory?" She filled her last comment with meaningful significance. Charlie noticed her slide her basket of candy onto a nearby shelf, out of sight, and thought she was about to invite him in.

She inclined her head toward her husband with an exaggerated lifting of eyebrows. The message got through. "Ohhh," said the man, heaving himself out of his chair. "Yes! Charlie! Wonka! Good to see you in the neighborhood again, Charlie."

"Thanks," said Charlie. The woman flapped her hand frantically in another silent--though undisguised--signal to her husband. He disappeared into the kitchen briefly, returning with a regular-sized Wonka bar.

"Seems silly--you trick-or-treating for candy, I mean," he said. "Should think you'd have all the candy you'd want, eh?"

Charlie invented quickly. He hadn't counted on this. "It's fun to get dressed up, is all. See friends. You know." He shrugged. "The candy, well--I'll give it to charity later. Drop it off at my school. Spread it around." He told himself to be sure he made good on this claim, especially considering the way his old neighbor was smiling dreamily at his generosity.

"In that case," said the man, "I won't feel so odd about giving you your own candy back!" He put the chocolate bar in Charlie's booty bag. "Would have been nice to give you something different, but Wonka's candy is all we have in our house, you know!" He chuckled. Charlie grinned back, ever more ready to be on his way. He inched slowly backward as the couple continued to wish him well and pass on greetings to that nice Mr. Wonka.

Free at last, Charlie ran to Wonka, intending to put his foot down. It was time to go home.

Mr. Wonka beat him to it. "Drat!" he said. "They recognized you. Is it your moustache? Is it coming off? Let me see." He cupped Charlie's chin.

"We have to go home, Willy," Charlie slurred through Wonka-squashed lips. "I'm tired. I'm done."

Wonka released his face. "Yes," he agreed. "They're on to us. No more to learn tonight." Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. Wonka appraised his young protege. "You've done well. Thank you, Charlie. You may only have one more Halloween left in you before you're too big for trick-or-treat. It was my own introduction to product research and it served me well. I owe Halloween a lot. But we've one more stop to make."

"Where?" Charlie groaned, following the chocolatier's brisk gait.

"Where every Halloween ends. My dad's," Wonka called over his shoulder at the dawdling boy. "Just to say hi. He hands out apples and coins and toothbrushes, but he _loves_ getting into costume! He makes a fantastic Dracula!"

"He's still anti-candy then?"

"Well, let me put it this way..." With that, Wonka took the bulging bag of candy from Charlie and handed it to the first kid who passed by. The boy, a costumed skeleton, stopped in his tracks, stunned at his good fortune. With open-mouthed astonishment he watched the two unlikely figures retreat up the street, step into a glass room on the corner, and rise up into the sky.


End file.
